Bella Notte
by paperbkryter
Summary: Clark and Chloe share a quiet moment. Set just prior to the events in the Season 6 finale, Phantom.


Chloe felt like it was the calm before the storm. She'd lived in Smallville long enough to know it never stayed quiet for long; and it _was_ quiet. All her sources reported nothing at all going on in or around town. Even within Chloe's own little social bubble things were running smoothly. Lois' latest project had been put on hold while she attended a special birthday ceremony for her father. There hadn't been a peep from the Luthors – Lex in fact hadn't even been seen in nearly a week. Lionel had gone somewhere on business which turned out to be quite legitimate. Chloe had left several messages for Lana before they were answered with a "just busy, sorry" email, which Chloe followed up on by sneakily putting out feelers toward the Luthor mansion. Lana was busy supervising a garden renovation project. Nothing out of the ordinary there either.

It was all rather unnerving.

If Smallville were a normal town, and Chloe hadn't seen and experienced all that she had, she might have sat back and just counted her blessings. However, Smallville was not normal, and Chloe did know that from personal experience. Whatever was coming was going to be big. She could feel it. There was a certain tension building in the air.

"Maybe," she thought as she drove up into the Kents' barnyard, "This is my krypto ability – the ability to sense _wrongness_."

There was nothing wrong at the Kent farm, at least as far as Chloe could see. All the livestock was turned out to graze in the lush green paddocks. A trio of little calves frolicked around their mothers and several other pregnant cows in one field, while the horses munched grass contentedly in another. Closer to the barn a ewe with twin lambs bleated at Chloe as she walked past. Chickens scattered as she went into the barn. It smelled like freshly cut hay and Chloe could see why; the hayloft was stuffed to the rafters with big bales Clark had apparently just brought in recently.

Chloe shook her head. Clark had been running the farm single handedly since his father died. Even knowing what she knew about him she still found this feat alone utterly amazing. That Clark could put even more on his plate was unbelievable. In between running the farm and hunting down meteor mutants and escapees from the Phantom Zone, he was continuing to delve into Lex's 33.1 activities. AND – Chloe found out recently – he had started taking some college courses on-line so he wouldn't fall behind when he did manage to find his way back to school.

Clark was not in the barn, nor could she see him out in the fields where the corn was just barely knee high. All the farm equipment was parked out behind the barn so he wasn't working out where she couldn't see him either. He had called her earlier and said he would be home. He must be in the house.

"Of course it would only take a fraction of a second for him to take himself elsewhere." Chloe muttered as she went up the steps to the screen door. "And if he's in Metropolis looking for me, I'm going to have to hurt him." She pushed open the door and stepped into the kitchen. "Clark?"

He didn't answer. The only greeting she got was from Shelby, who padded quickly over to the door, wagging his tail and begging to be petted. Chloe gave him a pat and seemingly satisfied with that, he went back into the living room. She heard him grunt a little as he settled back down to lie on the floor next to the sofa.

The sofa, where Clark lay face down in a gangly sprawl, one hand trailing down to the floor next to Shelby's head. Before him on the coffee table were several books and notebooks plus his laptop and an empty two-liter bottle of Jolt cola. The jury on whether or not caffeine actually did anything to Clark was still out, but obviously he'd been giving it a go in an effort to stay awake. It was an effort that failed; if the rhythm of his breathing was and indication, he was very deeply asleep.

"So. The Energizer Bunny finally ran out of steam," Chloe said softly.

He could hear a whisper from miles away, but he didn't stir at the sound of her voice right near his head. Tentatively she reached out her fingers to gently stroke his hair. This too failed to wake him. Chloe's brow furrowed. She walked around the end of the sofa and sat down in a chair nearby. From her new vantage point she could see Clark's face. His cheeks were hollow, dark circles around his eyes looked like bruises, and there was a tight, pinched look to his mouth. Bullets couldn't penetrate his alien skin, but exhaustion, stress, and heartache certainly had. The signs were written all over his face.

"Oh, Clark..."

Rising, Chloe went into the kitchen. A little sleuthing revealed that despite the provisions Martha Kent kept stocked at all times, Clark had been living on caffeinated soda and peanut butter sandwiches. He'd recently run out of peanut butter too. Chloe wondered if he'd eaten anything since.

Shelby had followed her into the kitchen. He watched intently as Chloe began raiding the pantry. She wasn't the best cook in the world but she could make a decent spaghetti. Some ground beef in the freezer and some breadcrumbs in one of the cupboards would go towards meatballs. Within only a minutes Chloe had a pot of water on to boil, meatballs browning in the oven, and a rich tomato and mushroom sauce bubbling on the stove.

She paused to give Shelby a dog biscuit from the box she'd found. "You can have a meatball later, okay?"

The dog thumped his tail politely and crunched the biscuit. Chloe went out into the living room where she found, much to her surprise, Clark blinking himself awake.

"Hey," she said brightly. "You're such a guy, Clark. A bomb could have gone off under your nose and you would have slept through it, but the smell of food..."

Clark moaned a little as he sat up slowly. He dragged his hands through his hair and down his face. "I was dreaming," he said softly. His expression was sad, and profoundly weary. "Lana and I were married. She was cooking dinner."A frown tugged at the corners of his mouth. "But when I went into the kitchen to see if she needed any help, it was you there instead."

Chloe blew off the fact that a) he was frowning about it and b) she was playing second fiddle to Lana yet _again_. "Could have been worse," she joked. "Could have been Lois."

"That would have qualified as a nightmare," Clark mumbled, and then yawned. His eyes opened a little wider as he sniffed the air. "I do smell food. Is Mom home?"

"Nope. If you hadn't reassured me time and time again that you don't have freakish mental abilities on top of everything else I would have said your dream was a portend. I'm making dinner."

Clark frowned. "What? Why?"

"Why? I came in here and you were dead to the world, probably because you've been pushing yourself too hard lately, so I thought you could use a good meal. You've lost weight Clark. Peanut butter and jelly is apparently a poor choice when it comes to sustaining an alien metabolism."

"Yeah, I doubt they had peanuts on Krypton," Clark replied wryly. His frown was replaced by a crooked smile. "Thanks, Chloe." After a pause he added, "Or should I wait until after I eat to thank you? I distinctly remember someone once saying, _"I'm a reporter, not an Iron Chef."_

Chloe shrugged. "My culinary knowledge begins and ends with spaghetti." Rising, she went back into the kitchen to check on things. "Oh, and refrigerated cookie dough. I worship at the altar of the Pillsbury Dough Boy."

"Don't we all."

He'd come into the kitchen as they talked and neatly twisted his body around so Chloe couldn't poke him in the stomach.

"It'll be done as soon as the meatballs brown and the water boils."

Clark raised an eyebrow.

"No. I do not need you to rush things along with a nuclear eyeball blast. You're supposed to be _resting_."

"I am?"

"Yes. Sit down."

Pulling a chair out from the table, Clark straddled it, resting his arms across the back as he watched Chloe finish making their dinner. "Wow, Chlo. Who knew you could be so domestic?"

Chloe laughed. "I'm not, not really. But I am good a helping out my friends." She flashed him a grin as she rummaged around looking for a pot holder.

"Here, I'll do it." Rising, Clark made his way toward the oven where he pulled out the pan of hot meatballs with his bare hands. "Where do you want them?"

"Thanks! On top of the stove is fine."

It had never struck Chloe as odd that she wasn't a home economics prodigy, but then she'd also never felt restricted by traditional gender roles. After Moira left them, Gabe had stepped up to the plate as the Sullivan chef and things had gone on more or less as they always had before. It never crossed Chloe's mind to learn to cook and clean, sew and whatever. She'd always pictured herself the intrepid reporter hunting down a story in the darkest jungles (whether it be tropical or urban), sustaining herself on trail mix, protein bars and caffeine. Who had time to cook?

Recently she'd been thinking more and more about her future from a different perspective. It wasn't that she wanted to give up her dreams of being a reporter, but perhaps a different sort of reporter, maybe a reporter who also had time for home and family.

For years Chloe had put herself and her friends in danger by investigating the weird goings-on in Smallville. It seemed like everyone had rallied to her cause too, and as the layers peeled back to reveal Smallville's secrets, the more complicated became the plot. It twisted and turned and knotted up on itself in a snarl. The number of players multiplied as others got caught in the web, and when it was revealed to Chloe that Clark was not only more involved than she'd ever thought, but that he was at the center of it all, she had been dumbfounded.

It was partially Clark's secret that had her re-thinking her focus. She knew something that could totally set the world on its collective ear. First Contact! Life on other planets did exist! It was THE story of a lifetime and it rested in the palm of Chloe Sullivan's hand. There was no reaching for the gold ring, it had been handed to her on a silver platter.

Chloe glanced back over her shoulder from where she stood stirring the spaghetti noodles as they cooked. Clark was supposed to be setting the table, but he'd discovered the mail sitting on the counter and instead stood reading a magazine. He chewed a thumbnail as he read. His hair was mussed from lying asleep on the sofa and as she watched he yawned expansively.

It wouldn't take the authorities long to figure out his weakness. They'd subdue him, drag him off to a lab somewhere. He'd be put on display like a side-show freak.

That is, unless Lex Luthor got hold of him first and god only knew what would happen then.

Sure, some people needed to be exposed, their evil deeds brought to light and justice meted out upon them. Just as importantly, however, there were those who did good things that never got credit for them, and yet had to retain their anonymity. The news was already filled with dark stories of corruption and greed. Maybe someone needed to remind people that there was still good left out there. Maybe someone should stand up for the Clark Kents and Oliver Queens of the world when they themselves could not.

Maybe that person could be Chloe Sullivan.

Chloe grinned. Steam rose from the colander as she poured the boiling spaghetti water through. "Hey, Clark? Does your Mom have a serving platter?"

One was produced, and dinner was assembled.

Clark was, as Chloe had suspected, starving for a good meal. Skeptical about her ability to make garlic bread, she provided bread and butter instead. Clark ate two huge plates full of spaghetti, and mopped up the last of the sauce on his plate with his bread. Chloe gave Shelby the promised meatball. The dog stayed glued to her side the entire time she was eating – in vain – she did not give him anything else.

"Chloe, you're a lifesaver," Clark sighed, sitting back in his chair. "Thanks for that."

"It was edible anyway."

"It was good!" He scowled at her as she rose to take their plates into the kitchen. "Just leave all that. I'll clean it up." Chloe began to protest but he interrupted her. "Kent family rule. He who does not cook, must do the dishes."

Chloe plopped back down in her chair.

Clark vanished, or at least seemed to vanish, and so did the dishes. Chloe felt only a rush of air and the "presence" of another person in the room. Sometimes, just at the edge of her vision she could see the air ripple and a flash of color lasting barely a nanosecond. Only once did she hear the clink of a dish as it landed in the dishwasher.

"_He's getting faster,"_ she thought. _"I wonder if he's getting stronger too?"_

Knowing what Clark was capable of doing now, made that thought rather unnerving.

He reappeared leaning against the kitchen counter. The dishes were gone from the table and the dishwasher was humming. Clark clapped his hands together and grinned.

"What's for dessert?"

Chloe deflated. "I didn't think about dessert."

"Oh. Well, I could..."

"No."

"No?"

"No. I told you, you're supposed to be resting." Chloe got up from her chair and poked around in kitchen looking for potential dessert items. Much to her dismay there was no refrigerated cookie dough. After some rummaging, however, she came up with a carton of vanilla ice cream and two bottles of root beer.

She held up her finds and grinned.

Clark grinned back. "Why don't we have them on the porch?"

"Sure."

Chloe made root beer floats like her father had taught her. They were one of the Sullivans' favorite treats, especially when they were feeling low. It had been a long time since Chloe spent any quality time with her father. They were both so busy these days. She made a mental note to repeat the floats sometime later that week – and insist Gabe sit down and enjoy them with her.

The days were beginning to grow longer, and there was still a faint bit of light remaining when Chloe came out onto the porch with the root beer floats in hand. Clark had arranged two porch chairs around a small cafe-type table upon which sat candles and a radio turned down low. As Chloe came out the door she saw the candles burst into light, seemingly on their own. A quick glance at Clark confirmed the fading glow deep in his eyes. He shrugged.

"This borders on romantic," Chloe laughed, settling into her chair and looking out into ever-darkening sky. "Candles? And music?"

"We should have eaten our spaghetti out here, and added a pair of Italian chefs singing _Bella Notte_." Clark peered out at the sky himself. "Is it a full moon?"

Chloe paused in the act of taking her first sip of root beer float.

_Lady and the Tramp? Does he realize what he's saying with that reference? _

Clark answered her question almost immediately, turning to look at her with an odd, mixed expression of remorse, affection, and innocent curiosity. "You should be cooking a romantic dinner for Jimmy."

"Jimmy isn't here."

"I know," Clark said softly. He leaned back in his chair and toyed with his mug after a quick sip from its contents. "I just wonder sometimes..."

"I do love Jimmy. I do," Chloe said hastily, but found herself adding, "Honestly though, you know what I find attractive about him?"

Clark grinned. "A lot of things I'm sure. Jimmy is a nice guy. Smart, funny..."

"He's you, Clark."

There was an awkward moment of silence, just as Chloe knew there would be. She waited until Clark seemed to recover from his initial start of surprise before explaining herself.

"You know that kid, the one who showed me around Smallville back when I was twelve? The kid I stole a kiss from?" Chloe smiled wistfully. "He was a nice guy. Smart, funny..."

"Was?" Clark queried softly.

"He went away. I haven't seen him for a long time." With a shrug, Chloe turned her attention to her drink, poking a blob of ice cream down into the bottom of the mug with her straw. "I don't think he's coming back either."

"Sometimes I wish he would."

Chloe favored him with a wry smile. "I know you do, but maybe it's better that he didn't."

Clark sighed sadly. "I don't think he can." He looked out into the barnyard, and beyond, to the horizon where the stars were beginning to appear. "So much has changed, Chloe. Sometimes I feel like...like everything is spinning out of control." Shaking his head, Clark continued with a note of frustration in his voice. "Why couldn't I have the ability to see what's coming? All the other things I can do...I wish I could be more prepared for what comes next."

"Whatever comes next I'm sure you'll come through it with flying colors – and make sure everyone else does too." Chloe said reassuringly. She certainly hoped so anyway. Her own recent revelations weighed heavy on her mind. A meteor freak? God...

"I don't always," Clark murmured. "I couldn't save my father. I lost Lana, and whatever Lex has become...I failed him too."

"You've never let me down."

Clark looked up at her sharply. "Haven't I?"

Neither one of them had an answer for that; or rather, they didn't want to answer it.

Instead they went back to silently enjoying the evening, each other's company, and the root beer floats. Chloe felt hers had a faintly bitter aftertaste. No, she thought, Clark hadn't let her down, not really. People can't help who they fall in love with, or who they _aren't_ in love with, even people with amazing abilities.

Lost in thought, she didn't notice when Clark rose from his chair. She was startled to find him suddenly standing before her, his hand outstretched. A slow song was playing on the radio, nothing Chloe was familiar with, but it had a beautiful melody. Clark had turned it up a notch.

"It's not _Perfect Memory_ but..." He shrugged. "I owe you one, Chlo."

Chloe slowly put her float aside, and stood up with a smile. "It's not Bella Notte, either."

"I'd offer to run to Italy and bring back a couple of singing chefs but I'm supposed to be resting."

Laughing, Chloe shook her head and let him guide her into the dance. The night was cooling. He was warm. As they swayed gently back and forth to the music, Chloe found herself edging closer, and closer until her cheek rested upon his chest and her arms were around him. Instead of awkwardly pulling away as he might once have done, Clark held her closer. His gentle embrace belied his phenomenal strength. Breath that could blast through doors and extinguish fires, softly rifled her hair as he sighed.

The song ended, but they kept dancing, ignoring the tune now playing on the radio in favor of the one only they seemed to be able to hear.

Chloe basked in warm contentment within Clark's arms. The cool night air couldn't touch her. Nothing could touch her, harm her, as long as he was there.

_If only this moment could last forever. We'd both be much happier I think. He realizes it too. He's...he's grown into me. _

It was too late, though, she realized. He'd made his choices, and she'd made hers, and the opportunities they'd missed could never be recovered.

Or could they?

_We can't predict the future. Not even Clark can see what's coming._

Closing her eyes, Chloe tightened her grip around him, suddenly filled with a strong sense of foreboding. The feeling of "wrongness" she'd felt earlier swept over her again. She angrily pushed it out of her head, unwilling to recognize it, unwilling to give it any sort of legitimacy.

There was no past. There was no future. There was only this moment, and in this moment of calm before the storm, Clark finally loved her. He loved _her_.

_If I die tomorrow, this is what I'm taking with me._

Clark stopped moving. Chloe raised her head from his chest, and took a step back, letting his hands come to rest upon her shoulders. They looked into each other's eyes for a long time before Clark bent to kiss her. He took his time, she let him, and when their lips parted, they did so with marked reluctance.

"I'm sorry," Clark whispered. "I shouldn't have..."

Chloe grasped his wrist before he could move away and put a finger to his lips, shushing his apology.

"No," she said. "Don't mess it up."

He cocked his head, frowning, obviously puzzled. Chloe didn't bother to explain, but reassured him with a smile as she let go of his hand and made her way down the porch steps. A moment later he seemed to realize what she was trying to say. He nodded, and gave her a wry grin.

"Good-night, Chloe."

"Good-night, Clark."

_And pleasant dreams. I know mine will be. _

FIN

**Oh this is the night, it's a beautiful night**

**And we call it bella notte.**

**Look at the skies, they have stars in their eyes**

**On this lovely bella notte.**

**Side by side with your loved one,**

**You'll find enchantment here.**

**The night will weave its magic spell,**

**When the one you love is near!**

**Oh this is the night, and the heavens are right!**

**On this lovely bella notte!**

**-Sonny Burke/Peggy Lee**


End file.
